tonight's group meeting

The support group that I joined doubled in size tonight. Usually there are only 3 of us. Tonight there were 6. In the 11 months that i've been attending, this was the first time any one new had come along. The 3 individuals that came all shared their story - some with tears, some with stoicism. I became completely unraveled. There was so much to relate to - and even some discoveries for my own benefit - that I feel unable to sleep. There is so much I want to rethink. Mull over. Investigate.

I was so upset I ran to the nearest Target and bought comfort items (without realizing I was doing it.) A fleece bathrobe, new sheets, PJ bottoms, diet pepsi, a new trash can for the kitchen to make me feel like I had cleaned something...

I was so incredibly triggered. The topic was disagreements, and our comfort with them. I wound up talking about the disagreements I have with myself almost daily. Voicing that I am constantly disagreeing with myself because while I have cut my mother off, and drawn the proverbial line in the sand, I still crave information about her, and her state of being. I was reliving every fear and frustration of not being able to heal her - save her - get her to the hospital. The hopelessness and regret and guilt. The wish my brother would seek some kind of help instead of acting as if he were impervious. Instead of cutting out his own family in favor of his wife's.

One of the newcomers expressed fears about the future - what would happen when he married, when he moved out of the house. I swear all I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms, tell him it was OK if he wanted to leave his ill mother, that he was allowed to think about his own needs, that he was going to have to figure out his own boundaries, and that he would have a life without the burden of caring for his mother. But I can't do that. I can't even make those claims to myself, let alone someone else. But always that need and desire to help and soothe everyone but myself. It never goes away. I will continue to put everyone else in front of myself.

I thought I had made progress over the past year. But maybe I haven't. Why else would I have lost it the way that I did? Why do I still feel like this? Like the weight on my shoulders will not let go, and that I just want to eat, eat, eat until I throw up?

I guess in truth I wanted him to put his arms around me, and tell me everything is going to be ok. I need that from someone else. I need a hug. I need a shoulder to cry on.